The Cold Hard Truth
by melraemorgan
Summary: House,is hurt and Wilson learns a hard truth.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A new House story… Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HOUSE M.D.

House stormed out of the mezzanine, he had to get away. Seeing Cuddy with Lucas was like being punched in the gut. He headed toward his office, but thought better of it and headed to the roof. He was pretty sure Wilson would look for him there eventually but he could have a few minutes peace if he hurried. After an arduous trip up the stairs he finally reached the roof door. As he stepped out onto the frozen pebble and tar surface he was mindful of how cold it was up here. He had left his coat in his office, no matter, the cold wind was bracing, made him feel alive. He shuffled deliberately to the edge of the roof, he liked to lean against the low wall and look out on the landscape. It gave him the false sense of solitude, of utter aloneness. He liked divorcing himself from the antlike humans scurrying to their cars and buildings to get out of the frigid cold. He was always separate from them, whether it was up here or in their midst. Even with Wilson he was alone. He didn't know why he kept going, except for some stubborn refusal to give up. Lisa had been his last chance, he wouldn't ever try again. If he could he would just fade away, but Wilson wouldn't let him. He couldn't let himself to hurt Wilson again. After all killing your best friends girlfriend pretty much is the limit a friendship is allowed. Still…If he could cease to be, without a lot of fuss, he would. He sighed aloud, and turned to go in to the hospital, the cold was getting to be too much even for him.

Step, thump, step thump, his rhythm of life the cadence of misery, his soundtrack…step, thump, step scrape, bang… "SHIT"…He felt white hot pain, saw flashes of light behind his eyes, a brief moment of shame…then black, empty blackness. He awoke a few minutes later cold and shivering. The pain making his stomach roil. He started to try to get up, and dizziness crashed into him, swamped any ability to move. There was a shimmer, like the summer heat off the asphalt, in his peripheral vision, he felt strange…Then he couldn't think …he was gone. He woke for a second time on the roof, freezing his ass off, the sky was darker, it must be the evening by now. He tasted blood, and his tongue hurt like hell. For a minute he couldn't remember, how he had gotten here. He wiped the blood tinged drool from his face, and gave himself a quick diagnostic… Head, bleeding… 'Damn, just what I needed another fucking head injury', Tongue, bitten… 'Must have had a seizure…' "SIGH" 'I better get the hell off the roof before I die of hypothermia, or Wilson finds me and sees I hit my head' House wasn't sure which would be worse, but he bet himself he'd rather freeze than have Wilson all over his ass. With some effort he got himself up and to the roof access door, groaning at the aches and pains the fall and seizure had given him. The walk down the stairs was slow and painful, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't run into anyone he knew as he came into the corridor. He walked straight into the men's room to clean himself up. He looked at his reflection, trying to see his head wound. There wasn't much blood, but with his new asylum chic hair-do he was afraid it would be noticeable. He didn't have any visible bruises, but his ribs on his left side hurt like hell. He sucked in his breath, as he palpated them checking for breaks. 'Lucky, me…just cracked, not broken.' After dusting himself off and wiping the dried blood from the corners of his mouth, he determined he was safe for public viewing and headed to his office. 'I hope Wilson hasn't been looking for me, I don't want to hear it' he thought.

When he arrived to his office, the conference room was empty; his fellows had already left since they had no case. He sighed in relief when he found his office also devoid of Wilson's impatient form. He put on his coat. House ,still shivering from his near death of exposure, decided to lie down and wait for Wilson to find him for the ride home. He was tired from his adventure, and was asleep in seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:Read and review I need all the help I can get!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own HOUSE M.D., If I did I would never let him go!

Two hours had passed, before Wilson finally came to House's office to head home for the day. He smiled to himself when he saw House sleeping so peacefully, it was hard to reconcile the soft kind face House wore when he was sleeping, and the irascible one he had when awake. Wilson walked over to wake him, and noticed something odd…He didn't seem to be breathing. His stomached lurched in fear "House! Wake up! "He shook his friend roughly. No response. 'Oh my GOD, Oh my god….' "CODE BLUE!!!! He started yelling praying someone would hear him. "GET A CRASH CART!!!!!" He heaved House out of the chair and onto the floor and began doing CPR on him.

House was dreaming, it was a beautiful dream. He was running, on a sunny cloudless day. The sun was warm on his face, he felt strong, he felt whole. He was happy. Someone far away was yelling his name, he didn't want to listen he just kept running, it was wonderful. He was free. Then he heard, someone crying, begging him to come back. He didn't want to come back, he was happy here. But the voice, was so sad, it made his stomach flip to hear the anguished cries. His dream self sighed and he ran back, back towards the dark, the cold, the pain, the voice. He heard a different voice say, "He's back, sinus rhythm". He started to open his eyes, his head hurt, his leg hurt, his chest was burning, it felt like someone had tap danced on his cracked ribs. He was in agony. He moaned, and looked up into Wilson's face; he saw relief and even joy there, he supposed that was worth coming back for.

"What happened?" House croaked. "Why am I on the floor? Why are you crying like a girl?" Asking took all he had and he started to slip back into unconsciousness.

"Hey! Don't go to sleep! You hit your head again, you have to stay awake!" Wilson shook him frantically.

He heard Chase say "We need to get an MRI; I will tell Cuddy to get him a bed in ICU."

That woke him up… "NO! No MRI! No ICU! Take me home Wilson…please. I am so tired." The last phrase was a whisper.

Wilson choked back a sob. He knew what House was saying, but he couldn't do that. "Shh, it's all right. You'll be fine. You won't have to stay long."

House, felt tears fall on him, he shook his head no. "No, Wilson, don't make me stay…please."

A gurney squeaked into the room, pushed by an orderly, and Lisa Cuddy's heels clicking close behind. "House, we are going to lift you onto the gurney, just be still Ok?" Chase's Aussie accented voice said.

House was losing the battle of staying out of the hospital, and consciousness. Just before he slipped into another seizure he heard Lisa Cuddy say "What the hell happened? What did he do this time?"

While House was seizing and being held together by medical science, Wilson was falling apart. He wanted House to be happy, he longed for a time when his best friend would be whole. He knew now that time may never come, that maybe he was asking him for too much, to try.

After they strapped him down and he quit seizing, they rolled House to the MRI. The brain damage was minor, but significant in its location. He had increased ICP and he was at risk for more seizures. They decided to place an internal ICP monitor, keep him sedated on anti seizure meds and continuous EEG's ,in the ICU. They called Foreman for a consult and he agreed with the treatment plan. The excitement of the past three hours had died down and left Wilson and everyone else exhausted in its wake. Cuddy leaned against the wall outside House's room quietly, waiting for Wilson to speak.

"He basically just asked me to let him die Lisa. He practically begged me to." Wilson's voice cracked with unshed tears. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

Cuddy looked at him with shock, and concern "James, I am sure that's not what he meant. You know House, he hates being in the hospital. You saved his life; you did what you were supposed to." She wondered why she didn't feel as sure about what she was saying as her voice sounded.

Wilson just nodded in reply. He knew she was at the very least ,lying to herself, if she thought that House had meant anything other than, to let him die. He needed to call Nolan; he couldn't handle this on his own and it was clear Cuddy wasn't going to be any help.

Chase stared at House's fragile form and asked himself what he would do in House's place, he sure, as hell wouldn't want to keep living like this, either. At least he was young, and had a chance of turning things around in his life. But at House's age, in his condition? He would have ended it a long time ago. The young doctor always suspected House was tired of living, but he never thought he would hear him say it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Short chapter, but another is in the pipes. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own House M.D.

The next morning Wilson finally worked up the courage to call Dr. Nolan…

"Nolan."He heard the rich sonorous voice say. Wilson hesitated. "Hello? … Speak up, I can hear you breathing."

Wilson swallowed "Uhh, yes. Dr. Nolan, this is Dr. James Wilson, House's friend…"

Nolan sighed; he could tell this wasn't good news whatever it was. "Yes, Dr. Wilson. How can I help you?"

"James, please." Wilson replied.

"Okay then, James. How can I help you?" Nolan said politely, belying the irritation he was beginning to feel. He wished the man would just spit it out, though he feared what it was he would say.

"House, hit his head somehow, lost consciousness, and quit breathing. When we got him back he asked me not to put him in the hospital, he begged me to take him home…He said…he said he was tired…" Wilson gasped the last few words as emotion threatened to choke him. "And then he started seizing…"

Nolan was silent for a moment and secured a clinical tone before saying. "James, I know you are upset about Greg being hurt, but it sounds like what he said, is what you are more concerned with?"

"Yes…He looked at me…begged me with his eyes. He wanted me to let him… die." Trying as hard as he could to hold back, and failing, Wilson began to cry.

Nolan sighed quietly, upon hearing the man's anguish. He knew how much Greg cared for Wilson, and now he understood James's love for House. Apparently, Greg House was far more depressed ,than he had let on during their last session. With the hope that he had felt for a relationship with Dr. Cuddy destroyed, he must feel like he has nothing left. As he thought this over, James Wilson tried to stifle his tears. Nolan sighed and said "James, I will be there in four hours. Don't tell Greg I am coming, and keep a close eye on him."

Relief washed over Wilson. "Okay, I will, he's sedated right now."

"Good, keep it that way until I get there, and please inform Dr. Cuddy that I will be there as House's doctor, I don't want to step on any bureaucratic toes."

Wilson gushed with appreciation, "I will, and thank you …I didn't know what to do."

Nolan nodded his head and answered him "It'll be all right James, you did the right thing. See you about eleven. Can I sleep in the on call room?"

"No, you don't want to do that, I'll make a reservation for you at the Omni, near the hospital." This, Wilson knew how to do; he knew how to arrange things for people and make them comfortable.

Nolan gave an appreciative "Okay, I'll see you then. Goodbye." and hung up the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here's an update more coming soon...PLEASE BE KIND and READ and REVIEW!!!!!

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Wilson, sat in the recliner in House's ICU room, watching him breathe. He couldn't get over the thought that House was once again fighting for his life. How many times had he been here, like this? It was beginning to feel like this was all they ever did together any more. He was starting to consider what this hell was like for House. He found himself understanding why his friend didn't want to go on. After all, hadn't he, himself, just written a speech about the duty and ethics of doctors in aiding terminally ill patients to end their own lives? Was he being a hypocrite by forcing his best friend to keep suffering in pain and misery? The thoughts Wilson was hamster wheeling in his head were making him crazy. He needed to find a reason for House to keep living, if not for House's sake, then for his own.

Cuddy, sat in her office and stared out the window, she couldn't get any work done, her mind was all over the place. House was in ICU again, had nearly died again, and had begged his best friend to help him die. She hurt for House, she hated hearing his spirit broken. She hurt for Wilson and the pain he was feeling, he had just gotten his friend back and now he was losing him again. She realized that she hurt for herself, despite her recent cruel treatment of House and choosing Lucas over him, Lisa knew she loved House. But it was this never-ending chaos that drove her away. Her love for him was a complicated living thing that waxed and waned like the moon, it swelled in her chest when he smiled at her, and withered on the vine when he made her life hell. She couldn't stand the thought of losing House, she didn't know if her heart could take it. However, she was beginning to wonder if there was any hope for House's happiness, and if it might be selfish to keep intervening, to keep reviving his broken body.

Chase, wandered the halls like a ghost, feeling somewhat untethered by House's words, by the look of desperation on his face. Somehow, the misanthrope had wormed his way into Chase's heart, and he was finding it hard to watch him suffer. He supposed House was as close to a father as he was ever going to get, and their relationship had currents of emotion that went beyond those of mentor and mentee. After the Dibala disaster, Chase found House's support unexpected but surprisingly appreciated. He had been a little skeptical about the kinder gentler version of House, but enjoyed the new dimensions of the older man.

Foreman, was at home acting like nothing was wrong, that House's display of weakness had not shook him to his core. He had finally learned to accept the old bastard's behavior, and even had a fondness for him, but he had always respected his toughness, his superhuman, indestructible ego. This new House had been a little less of a pain in the ass but he'd thought House was still House. Until now, suddenly everything he had blamed on the vicodin and House's insane arrogance seemed like something else, something real. It made him wonder if he had been completely wrong. Maybe House was just as human as everyone else, maybe more so. Having his worldview so hopelessly turned on its side, made Foreman anxious as hell, and worried him more for House than he ever thought he could feel for the man. He sighed and grabbed his keys, 'Might as well head back to the hospital, there's no way I'm going to sleep…'

Taub, was sitting on his couch feigning interest in some show his wife was watching. He had a high ball glass of single malt in his hand, but he couldn't enjoy the smoky smoothness of it, he was too distracted. If his wife noticed his pensive mood she didn't say anything, she was happy just to have him home for a change. Taub had pretty much hated House from day one, but he couldn't deny the man's incandescent brilliance, and he was drawn to it like the proverbial moth to the flame. When Kutner had killed himself, he began loathing the very sight of the man, cringed to hear his voice. He blamed House for Lawrence's death, after all wasn't he supposed to notice everything? Where were his amazing observational skills when it mattered to people he knew? Taub found he couldn't forgive House's failure to save his friend. So why was he so shaken by House's current state? He'd felt the whole going mental thing was a ploy of some kind in a Housian scheme that would reveal itself later. But watching House beg his best friend to let him die was something he couldn't reconcile with his understanding of the man. He began to question his suppositions about things he had seen House do, about what he always considered as his insufferable arrogance and overweening ego. Suddenly he saw all of House's behavior as a form of false bravado, saw him now as a fragile and lonely man, who could not accept people, or allow them to get too close. He now saw House as a terribly sad but brave man, who kept his pain and his heart close to the vest. If House was human, then he had to look at his own failure to notice his friend's depression. Taub had avoided this truth for so long, and foisted the responsibility solely onto House's crooked shoulders completely. He was finding it hard to let go of his self-protective assumptions. Nevertheless, he couldn't lie to himself anymore, and he began grieving for Lawrence all over again.

Thirteen, sat in the conference room of diagnostics alone. She thought about what she heard House say. She completely understood why House wanted to end the pain he was in, especially since he no longer had a cocoon of opiates to live in. However, she found his readiness to give up disturbing. The doctor in her began to see it as a sign and not an answer in and of itself. Perhaps something was making House depressed, some organic process outside of his pain, beyond a shortfall of serotonin. She decided to run her own differential. Holding the dry erase marker in her hand, she began filling the white board with House's symptoms.


End file.
